


As It All Began, In A Garden

by D20Owlbear



Series: 12 Days of Blasphemy [8]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 2 goddamn k of porn and only 1k last time for angstcuddle, Aziraphale Loves Humanity (Good Omens), Book canon compliant, M/M, Rimming, Sex in the Garden (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Squint and you might miss it tbh, This Is Fine, and also a book, and aziraphale only lets him cum because he remembered his tea, can easily be read as tv canon tho if you want, more or less book canon but they're at the cottage, not betad we die like the Bentley, sex in the garden not a tag, spoiler: crowley gets low key edged, that wasn't a tag and I AM APPALLED, this is where we're at now, very minor D/s undertones, who ARE you people christ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28351551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: 2/12 Days of Blasphemy 2020“Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.” (Song of Songs 4:16)Aziraphale finds Crowley in their garden too much of a temptation to ignore, what with him being all shirtless and working the soillike that.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: 12 Days of Blasphemy [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570819
Comments: 14
Kudos: 72
Collections: 12 Days of Blasphemy 2020, Top Aziraphale Recs





	As It All Began, In A Garden

**Author's Note:**

> Once more un-beta'd. If you know me you can point out typos in a DM.

Aziraphale hummed to himself, delighted in the human fallibility of the notes of the song going flat as they left his chest, just a little too deep to be a proper angel looking to sing in the choirs. It was all the little things he loved, the imperfections of humanity that he could take and fashion into his own, the want of food and drink, the need for social company, and —most damning of all— the reliance on the sunshine for mood regulation. Aziraphale had been a part of humanity for so long he'd picked these habits up himself and had been shamed for it in Heaven. Angels, they said, were supposed to be _better_ than humans, were godlier and closer to Her.

He didn't really think so. She was… ineffable, for an honest lack of a better word. Her Great Plan, or whatever it was, hadn't been so clear for some time now, especially now that the culmination of said Great Plan hadn't happened after all. Which, really, only meant both Heaven and Hell had been wrong about it, that it _wasn't_ actually Her plan after all. Otherwise, surely, it would have happened no matter the opposition…

So, Aziraphale steeped himself in humanity, he lived how he liked without Heaven on his shoulders dictating to him his every understanding of Her and Her plans and just… sort of let himself muddle along through it all. Just like the humans did. She didn't seem to object about it, and if that meant he could live how he liked and by what he learned of Good and Evil (and even more than that, Right and Wrong) from humans, well… they _were_ the only ones who had that Knowledge from the Tree, weren't they? That was their curse, and their blessing, in equal parts, they knew the difference. So Aziraphale did his best to learn from them, and finally admitted to himself that, perhaps, that was why he hoarded all those books on philosophy that spoke of morals and sense of self after all.

Aziraphale continued on into the garden he shared with Crowley, or rather it was Crowley's garden outside their cottage and Aziraphale liked to read on the bench in the shade with a lap blanket that Crowley had gotten for him. Recently, Crowley had even placed a little table that was the perfect size and height to lay a tray for tea or, perhaps, some mid-day nibbles and wine. It was a constant temptation to join Crowley outdoors these days, and Aziraphale was happy to give into it.

"Oh my," Aziraphale murmured upon setting down the tea tray (with an extra cup for Crowley, of course, the poor dear needed a break having been at the garden all day) and espying his husband clad in only jean shorts that cut off raggedly at his knees and absolutely no shirt at all. Crowley was a gangly man, thin and rakish and for all that he wasn't tall he made up for it in how long he looked in comparison to his width. His form hadn't been the fashion for many years, not until recently actually, but Aziraphale had always thought him pretty.

Sneaking up on his husband Aziraphale knelt behind him, uncaring of the dirt surely being ground into the knees of his trousers, and let his hands alight on either side of Crowley's waist. Crowley froze at the touch for a half-second before turning to look over his shoulder, only to gasp at the look on Aziraphale's face. He was hungry, one of those human things after all, and the only thing he craved at the moment was Crowley.

Leaning forward, Aziraphale slid a hand up Crowley's chest, hooking his arm underneath Crowley's shoulder and held his chin between his fingers to tilt his head back a bit further. Aziraphale's other arm wrapped around Crowley's waist to pull him back until he was flush to Aziraphale's chest.

"Azir– _angel_ , your shirt!" Crowley shuddered, the shiver down his spine only made Aziraphale hungrier.

"No matter," Aziraphale murmured, voice deeper than usual and rough with the desire built up in him, "We can clean it later." Crowley shivered again and turned his head just a little further to reach for Aziraphale's lips with his own, a task Aziraphale was more than happy to help with. He moaned into the kiss, hot with the summer sun and slick with the sweat of Crowley's shoulders and back that dampened Aziraphale's shirt.

"Angel," Crowley panted, he whined against Aziraphale's lips for something he couldn't ask for, not in the light of day when he wasn't already insensate with pleasure, but Aziraphale knew him well. They'd known each other since before humans measured things with Time, from the first Garden, except now they Knew each other even better. There were still things they couldn't say, not aloud, not sober, not in the light or out of doors, but they knew them just as they knew them for hundreds of years now, all the things they could not say.

"My darling," Aziraphale groaned, he slipped the hand on Crowley's waist down to his stomach and then flicked a finger at the button of Crowley's trousers. They parted, punctuated with a moan from Crowley and the movement and sudden freedom, and Aziraphale chased the zipper down with his hand, pressing beneath Crowley's boxers to wrap around his quickly filling cock.

Crowley pitched forward with a cry, Aziraphale let him. He fell onto his hands and Aziraphale pushed Crowley down at the shoulders until his elbows buckled and his face fell to the freshly cut grass, with a bit of his angelic strength Aziraphale casually placed his hand flat on Crowley's pelvis to simultaneously pull his hips up until he was on his knees properly. Crowley moaned and rolled his hips, or tried to, he wasn't quite able to manage it with Aziraphale's unrelenting hands on him, and groaned again at his favorite restraints.

Aziraphale's palm returned to Crowley's cock and his fingers wrapped around it, slim and long just like the rest of Crowley. A few generous strokes along the length of it pulled some more enjoyable sounds out of Crowley and also brought him to full hardness, hot and throbbing in Aziraphale's hand. Bending over, Aziraphale laid kisses down Crowley's spine, scraping his teeth over skin and marking Crowley as his with lips and tongue all across his back. No lash nor cat would be able to take Aziraphale's marks from Crowley.

He reached the hem of Crowley's jean shorts and kissed the divots of Crowley's hips. With his teeth he grasped Crowley's trousers and pulled them down to his thighs, Aziraphale's hand on Crowley's shoulders had to move closer to his mid-back, but Crowley knew by now not to get up again unless he wanted Aziraphale to stop. And he _very much_ did not want Aziraphale to stop the way his hand was moving and soft fingers running over the head of his cock with every stroke. Even Aziraphale's other hand, splayed wide on Crowley's back, possessive and hot like a brand, was heavenly.

"Mhfrg–" Crowley jerked forward and raised his head up, just a bit, when Aziraphale's lips laid a kiss to his tailbone, where what arse he had began.

"A problem, love?" Aziraphale asked softly, pausing the motion of his hands and mouth. Crowley gasped and his thighs trembled at Aziraphale's touch anyway.

"Hn'm dirty, sweaty 'n gross…" Crowley stumbled over his explanation. He normally wouldn't have cared at all but, well, after having worked in the garden all day under the sun he was rather… sweaty and gross, demon or not.

"Then purify thyself, demon," Aziraphale said simply, nipping at the swell of Crowley's arse, "Present thy body as a living sacrifice." The shiver down Crowley's spine at Aziraphale's command was as visible as the way he gasped for breath, ribs expanding with each heaving inhalation and shuddering empty. Crowley made a noise in the back of his throat like a frog was stuck in it, but nodded and shifted his knees for better purchase on the ground, separating them as far as the jeans pulled down his thighs allowed.

"Very good," Aziraphale murmured and kissed Crowley again, flicking a tongue out to taste skin that smelt of the ozone of scouring magic rather than mundane sweat and dust. Crowley moaned, sweet and low and his fingertips dug into the grass by his head as he closed his eyes, as Aziraphale lay the flat of his tongue between Crowley's cheeks.

Aziraphale began stroking Crowley once more, his hand a firm pressure over Crowley's cock, and his free hand moved from Crowley's back to his hip to spread him and hold him in place. Slowly at first Aziraphale laved his tongue over the ring of muscle, feeling Crowley twitch and whine underneath his hands and mouth, and then a little faster as he began to relax into the pleasure of it. Crowley had never been the type to fall into pleasure, rarely let himself be so vulnerable, so it was truly the best part of this for Aziraphale, to know that Crowley was letting Aziraphale take over him, to guide him into overwhelm and to give into the waves of pleasure Aziraphale could and would give him.

Crowley's thighs trembled which made Aziraphale smile and lick at him more firmly, to open Crowley up on his tongue and to press just inside. Aziraphale would never have a tongue like Crowley, not without quite a bit of effort on his part, but what he did have on his side was a delight in eating. He had practice sucking oysters from their shells and licking clean spoons and forks of their sticky sauces, Aziraphale had eaten nearly every type of food there was and partook of most the drink humanity had to offer, his tongue and his lips had toiled for this for millennia.

Crowley stretched deliciously around Aziraphale's tongue and the tremor of his body was as salt on caramel, an offset to enhance the enjoyment of the sweetness on the tongue. Aziraphale licked and sucked and made full use of his lips and tongue until Crowley couldn't decide between pushing back against his face or rolling his hips to meet Aziraphale's hand, ending up whimpering instead with his face shoved into the grass, eyes screwed shut, and hips weakly rocking back and forth, hips and thighs and all the muscles in his core quivering at Aziraphale's touch.

Aziraphale kept him there, played Crowley's body as easily and expertly as a harp, for nearly an hour. He took his fill and feasted on Crowley's pleasure, glutted on the noises that escaped Crowley's throat, and drank deeply in the satisfaction of the way Crowley's body followed its basest instincts under his instruction.

But, eventually, all good things had to end (and also Aziraphale remembered he had brought tea, which would _surely_ still be warm, and a book he'd intended to finish reading in the summer sunlight). He sped up his hand on Crowley's cock, thumbing over the slit and twisting his wrist on each down stroke, and pressed his tongue wide into Crowley as far as it would go as well as a finger to press down onto Crowley's prostate, stretching him just a little more the way he knew Crowley liked.

With a sob and a full-body shudder, Crowley came into Aziraphale's hand. Unrelenting, Aziraphale massaged with his finger and kissed along the tops of Crowley's hips where they dimpled in his back until Crowley fell forward in his exhaustion, all the pleasure wrung from him like a towel.

Crowley lay on the grass, his jeans still about his thighs, for a few moments to catch his breath. With a loud groan he pushed himself over to grin up at Aziraphale, fucked perfectly stupid.

"Gosh, let my beloved come into his garden," Crowley snickered, cheek green with grass stain and dirt still underneath his nails from where he'd pulled up grass and sod, "and eat his pleasant fruits, indeed." Aziraphale only smiled, pleased with himself, and pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve to dab at his mouth and wipe off his hand.

"Tea time, dear."

"Yes, angel, alright."

"So… it's my garden now, is it?"

"Course, made it f'r you."

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me in a couple of places!
> 
> Twitter: <https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire>  
> Tumblr: <https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/>
> 
> All my graphics/photomanips are there plus you can find updates on anything if you send me an ask or message!


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